University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


SUMMER  OF  LOVE 


SUMMER 
of     LOVE 


BY 


JOYCE    KILMER 


NEW  YORK 

THE  BAKER  &  TAYLOR  COMPANY 
1911 


COPYRIGHT,  1911, 

BY 
THE  BAKER  &  TAYLOR  COMPANY 


-3fn  Equation: 

TO   ALINE 

A  vagrant  minstrel  of  the  street, 
No  poet  of  the  laurel  crown, 

I  kneel,  dear  Princess,  at  your  feet, 
And  lay  my  book  of  verses  down. 

See  all  the  love  that  lingers  there, 

And  so,  for  love's  sake,  find  it  fair. 


Certain  of  the  poems  in  this  volume  are  reprinted  by  kind 
permission  of  the  editors  of  the  following  magazines  and 
newspapers:  The  Call,  Harpers'  Weekly,  The  Independent, 
Moods,  The  Pathfinder,  the  New  York  Sun  and  the  Sunday 
Magazine  of  the  New  York  Times. 

I  am  glad  to  acknowledge  my  debt  of  gratitude  to  my 
mother,  Mrs.  Kilburn-Kilmer,  for  her  encouragement  and 
assistance  in  making  this  book. 

For  sympathy  and  valuable  advice,  I  am  deeply  obliged 
to  many  friends,  particularly  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Henry  Mills 
Alden  and  Mr.  Robert  Cortez  Holliday. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Summer  of  Love      ..' i 

Villanelle   of   Loveland •    .    .  2 

Thurifer /v   .    .  >%   .    .    •    .  4 

In   a   Book-shop 5 

Eadem .    .    » 6 

In  Fairyland ......  7 

The  Sorrows  of  King  Midas ....'.    .  8 

Slender  Your  Hands     .    .    »  -. 9 

Sleep   Song  .    *»>./.. ,    ,    ,    .  10 

Love's  Thoroughfare n 

White  Bird  of  Love  .    .    ...    ....    .    .    •    •>-   •    •  12 

Transfiguration _••'».  14 

My  Lady 16 

Gifts  of  Shee .'  ,    .    .    .    .   ^r  .    .    .    .  17 

Wherever,  Whenever 19 

Ballade  of  My  Lady's  Beauty  .    .-...«.    .    ,    ,    .    .  20 

Love's  Rosary  .    . . .    . r.    .    .    .    .-  .    .    .    4" :.    .    .    .  22 

Tribute      ....    ^;V'.    ....    .  ., •••«    i ".  '.-«    *    .  24 

Matin 25 

A   Valentine      .^.  .!>    .r   .    . *    .    .    .  26 

Star  of  Love    i  .    .-'•»-  . 27 

For  a  Birthday .   -,    *    ..-*..  V*  .»    .  28 

The  Use  of  Night 31 

Alchemy    .    .    ._,,.» 32 

Wayfarers 33 

With  a  Mirror 35 

Princess  Ballade 36 

Lullaby  for  a  Baby  Fairy 38 

George  Meredith 40 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

"And  Forbid  Them  Not" 41 

A  Dead  Poet 42 

The  Morning  Meditations  of  Frere  Hyacinthus  ....  43 

Villanelle  of  the  Players 46 

The  Mad  Fiddler 47 

The  Grass  in  Madison  Square 49 

Chevely  Crossing 50 

Said  the  Rose 53 

White  Marble  and  Green  Grass .56 

Metamorphosis       57 

Absinthe 58 

Theology 60 

For  a  Child 61 

To  J.  B.  Y 62 

The  King's  Ballad 63 

Jesus  and  the  Summer  Rain 65 

Ballade  of  Butterflies 67 

The  Clouded  Sun  (To  A.  S.) 69 

In  Memoriam:  Florence  Nightingale 72 

Ballad  of  Three 73 

Court  Musicians 75 

The  Dead  Lover 76 

The  Poet's  Epitaph 77 

The  Subway 78 

The  Other  Lover 79 

Age  Comes  A-wooing 81 

Prayer  to  Bragi 84 

Imitation  of  Richepin's  Ballade  of  the  Beggars'  King  .    .  85 

Love  and  the  Fowler's  Boy 87 

The  Way  of  Love ; 88 


SUMMER  OF  LOVE 


;  v  Summer  -of  Love 


SUMMER  OF  LOVE 

June  lavishes  sweet-scented  loveliness 

And  sprinkles  sunfilled  wine  on  everything; 

The  very  leaves  grow  drunk  with  bliss  and 

sing 

And  every  breeze  becomes  a  soft  caress. 
All  earthly  things  felicity  confess 

And  fairies  dance  in  many  a  moonlit  ring; 

The  fleetfoot  hours  fresh  wealth  of  joyaunce 

bring; 
Life  wears  her  gayest  rose-embroidered  dress. 

Kind  June,  why  bear  these  golden  gifts  to  me? 

All  winter  long  I  hear  the  throstle's  tune, 
All  winter  long  red  roses  I  can  see, 

Reading  the  while  Love's  ancient  magic  rune. 
In  Love's  fair  garden-close  I  wander  free, 

So  take  your  guerdon  elsewhere,  lovely  June. 


Summer  of  Love 


VILLANELLE  OF  LOVELAND 

Loveland  is  fair  to  see, 

Of  all  kind  havens  best, 
Dwell  here,  my  Sweet,  with  me. 

Here  flowers  bloom  for  thee, 
Thy  feet  are  rose-caressed, 
Loveland  is  fair  to  see. 

The  violets  shall  be 

Thy  soft  and  fragrant  nest, 
Dwell  here,  my  Sweet,  with  me. 

Thou  shalt  not  lack  for  glee, 

Here  life  is  but  a  jest; 
Loveland  is  fair  to  see. 

None  shall  be  glad  as  we; 
Ah,  grant  me  my  behest, 
Dwell  here,  my  Sweet,  with  me. 


Summer  of  Love 


Now  would  I  ask  my  fee, 

Thy  red  heart  I  request; 
Loveland  is  fair  to  see, 
Dwell  here,  my  Sweet,  with  me. 


Summer  of  Love 


+.     THURIFER 

In  a  carven  censer  of  burnished  words, 
Swung  on  a  golden  chain  of  rhythm, 
For  you  I  burn  my  heart. 


[  4  ] 


Summer  of  Love 
IN  A  BOOK-SHOP 

All  day  I  serve  among  the  volumes  telling 
Old  tales  of  love  and  war  and  high  romance; 

Good  company,  God  wot,  is  in  them  dwelling, 
Brave  knights  who  dared  to  scorn  untoward 
chance. 

King  Arthur — Sidney — Copperfield — the  daring 
And  friendly  souls  of  Meredith's  bright  page — 

The  Pilgrim  on  his  darksome  journey  faring, 
And  Shakespeare's  heroes,  great  in  love  and 
rage. 

Fair  ladies,  too — here  Beatrice  smiling, 

Through  hell  leads  Dante  to  the  happy  stars; 

And  Heloise,   the  cruel  guards  beguiling, 
With  Abelard  makes  mock  of  convent  bars. 

Yet  when  night  comes  I  leave  these  folks  with 
pleasure 

To  open  Love's  great  summer-scented  tome, 
Within  whose  pages — precious  beyond  measure — 

My  own  White  Flower  Lady  hath  her  home. 

[  5  ] 


Summer  of  Love 


EADEM 

Sometimes  within  the  garden  of  your  sweetness 
I  rest  and  dream  and  think  of  all  the  years 

Before  my  soul  had  bloomed  to  fair  completeness, 
Those  times  of  shadow-laughter,  mixed  with 
tears. 

And  in  my  dreams  I  see  a  gentle  maiden 

Whom  I  once  loved  and  whom  I  still  love, 
Sweet, 

For  she  is  like  a  rose  with  sunlight  laden, 
And  my  lips  ache  to  kiss  her  little  feet. 

She  is  so  pure  the  very  sky  above  her 
Is  not  so  fair  with  all  its  white  and  blue, 

And  so,  my  love,  I  cannot  help  but  love  her 
Although  my  life  and  love  belong  to  you. 


Summer  of  Love 


IN  FAIRYLAND 

The  fairy  poet  takes  a  sheet 
Of  moonbeam,  silver  white, 

His  ink  is  dew  from  daisies  sweet, 
His  pen  a  point  of  light. 

My  love,  I  know  is  fairer  far 
Than  his,    (though  she  is  fair,) 

And  we  should  dwell  where  fairies  are 
For  I  could  praise  her  there. 


[  7  1 


Summer  of  Love 


THE  SORROWS  OF  KING  MIDAS 

King  Midas  took  delight 

In  golden  vessels  bright, 
And  yellow  bars  of  ore  he  found  most  fair; 

But  he  had  never  seen 

The  dancing,  glancing  sheen 
Of  sunlight  on  your  dark  and  fragrant  hair. 

His  wealth  could  buy  him  wine 

Made  from  the  purple  vine 
And  sweet  as  all  the  blossom-breathing  South; 

But  he  could  never  slake 

His  thirst,  nor  ease  the  ache 
Of  his  hot  lips  at  your  love-pliant  mouth. 


Summer  of  Love 


+  SLENDER  YOUR  HANDS 

Slender  your  hands  and  soft  and  white 
As  petals  of  moon-kissed  roses; 

Yet  the  grasp  of  your  fingers  slight 
My  passionate  heart  encloses. 

Innocent  eyes  like  delicate  spheres 
That  are  born  when  day  is  dying; 

Yet  the  wisdom  of  all  the  years 
Is  in  their  lovelight  lying. 


[  9  1 


Summer  of  Love 


SLEEP  SONG 

The  Lady  World 
Is  sleeping  on  her  white  and  cloudy  bed. 

Like  petals  furled 

Her  eyelids  close.   Beside  her  dream-filled  head 
Her  lover  stands  in  silver  cloak  and  shoon, 
The  faithful  Moon. 

So  Love,  my  Love, 
Sleep  on,  my  Love,  my  Life,  be  not  afraid. 

The  Moon  above 

Shall  guard  the  World,  and  I  my  little  maid. 
Your  life,  your  love,  your  dreams  are  mine 

to  keep, 
So  sleep,  so  sleep. 


[JO] 


Summer  of  Love 


LOVE'S  THOROUGHFARE 

As  down  the  primrose  path  to  Love  I  trod 
The  golden  flowers  kissed  my  eager  feet, 
The    wayside    trees    with    singing   birds   were 
sweet, 

The  summer  air  was  like  the  smile  of  God. 

"Turn  back!"  said  one,  "escape  the  avenging  rod. 
Soon  thou  the  deathless  flames  of  Hell  shall 

meet." 
But  I  pressed  on  and  thought  of  no  retreat, 

Till  soon  with  fire  I  was  clothed  and  shod. 

But  through  the  burning  vales  of  Hell  where  flow 
The  molten  streams  of  bitterest  despair, 

Made  blind  by  pain  I  stumbled  on,  and  lo! 
I  stood  at  last  in  Love's  own  perfumed  air. 

So,  having  reached  my  journey's  end  I  know 
That  God  made  Hell  to  be  Love's  thorough- 
fare. 


Summer  of  Love 


WHITE  BIRD  OF  LOVE 

Little  white  bird  of  the  summer  sky, 
Silver  against  the  golden  sun, 

Over  the  green  of  the  hills  you  fly, 
You  and  the  sweet,  wild  air  are  one. 

Glorious  sights  are  in  that  far  place 
Reached  by  your  daisy-petal  wing, 

Rose-colored  meteors  dive  through  space, 
Stars  made  of  molten  music  sing. 

Still,  though  your  quivering  eager  flight 
Reaches  the  groves  by  Heaven  town, 

Where  all  the  angels  cry  out,  "Alight! 
Stop,  little  bird,  come  down,  come  down!1 

Careless  you  speed  over  fields  of  stars, 
Darting  through  Heaven  swift  and  free; 

Nothing  your  arrowy  passage  bars 
Back  to  the  earth  and  back  to  me. 

[12] 


Summer  of  Love 

Here  in  the  orchard  of  dream-fruit  fair 
Out  of  my  dreams  is  built  your  nest. 

Blossoming  dreams  all  the  branches  bear, 
Fit  for  my  silver  dream-bird's  rest. 

Here,  since  they  love  you,  the  young  stars  shine, 
Through  the  white  petals  come  their  beams. 

Little  white  love-laden  bird  of  mine, 

Let  them  shine  on  you  through  my  dreams. 


[131 


Summer  of  Love 


TRANSFIGURATION 

If  it  should  be  my  task,  I  being  God, 

From  whirling  atoms  to  evolve  your  mate, 
With  hands  omnipotent  I  should  create 

A  great-souled  hero,  with  the  starlight  shod. 

The  subject  worlds  should  tremble  at  his  nod 
And  all  the  angel  host  upon  him  wait 
Yet  he  should  leave  his  pomp  and  splendid 
state 

And  kneel  to  kiss  the  ground  whereon  you  trod. 

But  God,  who  like  a  little  child  is  wise, 

Made  me,  a  common  thing  of  earthly  clay; 
Then  bade  me  go  and  see  within  your  eyes 

The  flame  of  love  that  burns  more  bright  than 

day, 
And  as  I  looked  I  knew  with  wild  surprise 

I  was  transformed — your  heart  in  my  heart 
lay. 


Summer  of  Love 


When  first  the  golden  dawn  of  love  was  breaking 
In  your  white  soul,  I  kissed  your  gentle  hand, 

And  all  my  heart  with  strange,  sweet  pain  was 

aching, 
A  wild,  new  joy  I  could  not  understand. 

And  now,  when  I  your  slender  fingers  taking 
Keep  them  enslaved  to  my  hot  lips'  demand, 

I   feel  that  same  strange  thirst  that  knows  no 

slaking 
But  then — why  should  I  wish  to  understand? 


Summer  of  Love 


MY  LADY 

The  joy  of  pleasant  places 

Where  Saturn  still  doth  reign 
Is  in  her  gentle  face's 
Calm  ignorance  of  pain. 
The  bliss  of  ages  golden 
In  her  slim  hand  is  holden, 

By  old  gods  she  was  molden 
Before  the  world  knew  stain. 

Her  body  is  an  altar 

Wherein  is  Love  enshrined. 
Before  her  worldlings  falter 
And  cruel  eyes  grow  kind. 
Her  breath  is  breath  of  roses 
From  mystic  garden-closes, 
The  troubled  it  composes 
Like  nectar-laden  wine. 


[16] 


Summer  of  Love 

GIFTS  OF  SHEE 

O  Shee  who  weave  the  moonlight  into  shimmering 
white  strands, 

0  powerful  and  tender-hearted  Shee! 
While  I  live  at  home  in  plenty  or  am  poor  in  far- 
off  lands, 

1  will  thank  you  for  the  gifts  you  gave  to  me. 

For  the  silver  collar  that  you  wrought  me  by  your 

magic  art, 

For  the  scarlet  Seal  that  on  my  mouth  you  set, 
For  the  glorious  White  Flower  that  you  placed 

upon  my  heart, 

When  the  sun  and  moon  shall  die  I'll  thank  you 
yet. 

For  around  my  throat  the  Silver  Collar  of  soft 

arms  I  wear, 
On  my  mouth  sweet  lips  have  fixed  the  Scarlet 

Seal, 

On  my  heart  the  perfect  Flower  white  of  death- 
less love  I  bear, 

And  these  charms,  your  gifts,  ensure  my  lasting 
weal. 


Summer  of  Love 

O  Shee  who  weave  the  moonlight  into  shimmering 
white  strands, 

0  powerful  and  tender-hearted  Shee! 
Though  I  live  at  home  in  plenty  or  am  poor  in 

far-off  lands, 

1  will  thank  you  for  the  gifts  you  gave  to  me. 


[18] 


Summer  of  Love 


WHEREVER,  WHENEVER 

If  I  had  lived  down  underneath  the  earth, 
And  you  had  dwelt  among  the  pleasant  stars, 

I  should  have  flown  the  caverns  of  my  birth, 
And  you  have  riven  Heaven's  silver  bars. 

We  owe  no  gratitude  to  wanton  chance, 

For  not  through  him  does  heart  cleave  fast 

to  heart. 
Not  time  nor  place  nor  any  circumstance, 

Could  keep  our  lips,  our  breasts,  our  souls, 
apart. 


[19] 


Summer  of  Love 


BALLADE  OF  MY  LADY'S  BEAUTY 

Squire  Adam  had  two  wives,  they  say, 
Two  wives  had  he,  for  his  delight, 

He  kissed  and  clypt  them  all  the  day 

And  clypt  and  kissed  them  all  the  night 
Now  Eve  like  ocean  foam  was  white 

And  Lilith  roses  dipped  in  wine, 

But  though  they  were  a  goodly  sight 

No  lady  is  so  fair  as  mine. 

To  Venus  some  folk  tribute  pay 

And  Queen  of  Beauty  she  is  hight, 
And  Sainte  Marie  the  world  doth  sway 

In  cerule  napery  bedight. 

My  wonderment  these  twain  invite, 
Their  comeliness  it  is  divine, 

And  yet  I  say  in  their  despite, 
No  lady  is  so  fair  as  mine. 

Dame  Helen  caused  a  grievous  fray, 
For  love  of  her  brave  men  did  fight, 

The  eyes  of  her  made  sages  fey 
And  put  their  hearts  in  woful  plight. 

[20] 


Summer  of  Love 

To  her  no  rhymes  will  I  indite, 
For  her  no  garlands  will  I  twine, 

Though  she  be  made  of  flowers  and  light 
No  lady  is  so  fair  as  mine. 

L'ENVOI 

Prince  Eros,  Lord  of  lovely  might 
Who  on  Olympus  dost  recline, 

Do  I  not  tell  the  truth  aright? 
No  lady  is  so  fair  as  mine. 


Summer  of  Love 


LOVE'S  ROSARY 

Love's  rosary  is  ours  this  holiday, 

So  let  us  worship  Eros,  Lord  of  bliss. 
Let  me  be  priest  and  teach  you  as  we  pray 
Love's  rosary. 

The  first  fair  golden  globe  denotes  a  kiss, 
Curve  your  sweet  lips  the  proper  churchly  way, 

And  you  must  lie  within  my  arms  at  this. 

Keep  all  the  rites !  It  will  not  do  to  miss 
A  single  bead  in  all  the  long  array. 

Ah,  Sweet,  we'll  tell  on  every  day,  I  wis, 
Love's  rosary. 


[22] 


Summer  of  Love 


"The  Princess  cried;  her  tears  fell  on  the  ground 
Like    pearls    of   moonlight,    precious,    fair   and 

round." 

But  when  the  Princess  whom  I  worship  cries 
Then  from  the  clouded  heaven  of  her  eyes 
Rain  of  such  sweet  wild  loveliness  I  sip 
My  heart  says  "Stop  I"  but  not  my  eager  lip. 


[23] 


Summer  of  Love 


TRIBUTE 

Because  my  Love  has  lips  that  taste  of  glory, 
That  breathe  of  love,  that  are  as  red  as  wine, 

My  days  and  nights  are  as  a  pleasant  story 
Told  in  a  valley  sweet  with  rose  and  vine. 

Because  my  Love  has  hair  that  smells  of  flowers, 
That  is  as  soft  and  cool  as  forest  shade, 

Therefore  the  tale  of  all  my  blissful  hours 
Be  writ  in  gold  and  at  her  footstool  laid. 


Summer  of  Love 


MATIN 

Soft  purple  shadows  cloud  love-weary  eyes, 
Dawn's  saffron  glow  is  on  the  tossed  white  bed; 
Now  passion's  day,  warm  fragrant  night  is  fled, 

A  cold  grey  shroud  on  Love's  bright  altar  lies. 

From  dusky  corners  ghostly  dreams  arise, 
The  pallid  wraiths  of  kisses  newly  dead, 
They  float  and  blend  above  her  sleeping  head, 

Her  languid  red  lips  quiver  as  she  sighs. 

And  so,  like  Adam  when  in  fear  and  shame 
He  saw  God's  soldiery  in  fierce  array 

And  sorrowing  from  Eden's  threshold  came 
To  bear  what  pains  life  on  his  soul  might  lay, 

1  see  Dawn  standing  with  a  sword  of  flame, 
And  from  my  Eden  turn  in  grief  away. 


[25] 


Summer  of  Love 


A  VALENTINE 

My  songs  should  be  as  lilies  fair, 
And  roses  made  of  crimson  light, 

To  lie  amid  the  fragrant  hair 

And  on  the  breast  of  my  delight. 

Such  glory  is  for  them  too  high; 

I'll  scatter  them  adown  the  street, 
And  when  my  love  is  passing  by 

They  will  rise  up  and  kiss  her  feet. 


[26] 


Summer  of  Love 


STAR  O'  LOVE 

The  Sun  pours  gold  upon  the  waking  earth 

And  makes  the  hills  and  valleys  ring  with  glee, 
Brings  fruits  and  flowers  to  their  joyous  birth, 

And  paints  strange  colors  on  the  foaming  sea. 
The  Moon,  with  quivering  wand  of  silver-white, 

Calls  forth  the  fairies  to  their  circling  dance. 
Bids  lovers  seek  their  never  old  delight, 

And  fills  the  air  with  perfume  of  romance. 
Yet,  Sun,  thy  glory  passes  with  the  day, 

And  Moon,  the  dawn  destroys  thy  loveliness; 
But  thou,  sweet  Star  o'  Love,  wilt  shine  alway, 

Nor  night  nor  day  can  make  thy  splendor  less. 
Fade,  lordly  Sun,  and  Moon,  forget  to  shine, 
Since  thy  white  wonder,  Star  o'  Love,  is  mine ! 


[27] 


Summer  of  Love 

FOR  A  BIRTHDAY 

April  with  her  violets, 
May  and  June  with  roses, 

Young  July  with  all  her  flowers,  crimson, 

gold  and  white, 
Each  in  place  her  tribute  sets, 
Each  her  wreath  composes, 

Making  glad  the  roadway  for  the  Lady  of 
Delight. 

Birds  with  many  colors  gay, 
Through  the  branches  flitting, 

Sing,  to  greet  my  Lady  Love,  a  lusty  wel- 
come song. 

Even  bees  make  holiday, 
Hive  and  honey  quitting, 

Tremulous  and  jubilant  they  join  the  eager 
throng. 

Now  the  road  is  flower-paved; 
Timid  fawns  are  peering 

From  their  pleasant  vantage  in  the  roadside's 
leafy  green. 

[28] 


Summer  of  Love 

All  the  world  in  sunlight  laved, 
Knows  the  hour  is  nearing 

That  shall  bring  the  golden  presence  of  the 
well-loved  Queen. 


Hark !  at  last  the  silver  trill 
Of  a  lute  is  sounding — 

Happy   August,    purple-clad,    appears    with 

all  her  train. 

Sudden  sweet  the  branches  fill; 
Every  heart  is  bounding; 

August  comes,  the  kindly  nurse  of  her  who 
is  to  reign ! 


And  now,  with  proud  and  valiant  gait, 

An  hundred  centaurs  come. 
Pan  rides  the  foremost  one  in  state; 

The  waiting  crowd  grows  dumb. 
Each  centaur  wears  a  jewelled  thong 

And  harness  bright  of  sheen; 
They  draw  through  surging  floods  of  song 

The  carriage  of  the  Queen! 

[29] 


Summer  of  Love 

"Hail!  Hail!  Hail!  to  the  Queen  in  her  moon- 
stone car! 
Hail!  Hail!  Hail!  to  the  Lady  whose  slaves  we 

are! 

We  of  the  meadows,  the  rocks  and  the  hills, 
Dwellers  in  oceans  and  rivers  and  rills, 
Beasts  of  the  forests  and  birds  of  the  air, 
Linnet  and  butterfly,  lion  and  bear, 
Daisy  and  daffodil,  spruce-tree  and  fir, 
Yield  to  our  Queen  and  do  homage  to  her ! 
Hail !  Hail !  Hail !  we  welcome  thy  royal  sway ! 
Hail!  Hail!  Hail!  O  Queen,  on  this  festal  day!" 

So  all  the  world  kneels  down  to  you, 

And  all  things  are  your  own; 
Now  let  a  humble  rhymer  sue 

Before  your  crystal  throne. 
Fair  Queen,  at  your  rose-petal  feet 

Bid  me  to  live  and  die ! 
Not  all  your  world  of  lovers,  Sweet, 

Can  love  so  much  as  I. 


[30] 


Summer  of  Love 


THE  USE  OF  NIGHT 

I  said:  "What  is  the  use  of  sombre  night?'* 

The  Moon  replied:  "To  frame  my  love-wan 
face." 

A  fairy  dame  said:  "That  my  fresh-wove  lace 
May  on  the  grasses  catch  the  Sun's  first  light." 
"That  we  may  keep  with  song  our  ancient  rite," 

Croaked    glistening    frogs    from    their    dank 
dwelling  place. 

"That  I  may  halt,"  a  man  said,  "in  my  race, 
And  rest  my  eyes  that  are  grown  tired  of  sight." 

Your  ebon  frame,  pale  Moon,  makes  you  more 

fair; 
Weave,  gentle  neighbor;  frogs,  pipe  loud  your 

song; 
Sad  traveller,  be  dreamless  sleep  your  share. 

And  I  would  have  night  twenty  times  as  long, 
And  clasp  my  love  in  some  dark  bower  where 
The  Day  could  never  come  to  do  us  wrong. 


[31] 


Summer  of  Love 


ALCHEMY 

I  sang  two  little  songs  one  day, 
I  sang  them  for  a  lady's  pleasure, 

I  took  her  praise  for  wreath  of  bay, 
Her  smile  for  largess  beyond  measure. 

I  sang  out  in  the  market  square 

And  most  folk  could  not  understand; 

One  who  by  chance  was  passing  there 
Dropped  down  some  silver  in  my  hand. 

Now  since  the  songs  I  gave  you,  Sweet, 
Have  turned  to  silver  fair  and  gleaming, 

For  your  pleasaunce  as  is  most  meet 
The  silver  turns  to  song  and  dreaming. 


[32] 


Summer  of  Love 

WAYFARERS 

Underneath  the  orchard  trees  lies  a  gypsy  sleep- 
ing, 
Tattered  cloak  and  swarthy  face  and  shaggy 

moonlit  hair, 
One  brown  hand  his  crazy  fiddle  in  its  grasp  is 

keeping, 

Through  the  Land  of  Dreams  he  strolls  and 
sings  his  love  songs  there. 

Up  above  the  apple  blossoms  where  the  stars  are 

shining, 
Free  and  careless  wandering  among  the  clouds 

he  goes, 
Singing  of  his  lady-love   and  for  her  pleasure 

twining 

Wreaths  of  Heaven  flowers,  violet  and  golden 
rose. 

In  his  sleep  he  stirs,  and  wakes  to  find  his  love 

beside  him, 

Pours  his  load  of  Dreamland  blooms  before 
her  silver  feet, 

[33] 


Summer  of  Love 

Takes  her  in  his  arms  and  as  her  soft  brown 

tresses  hide  him 

Both  together  fare  to  Dreamland  up  the  star- 
paved  street. 


[34] 


Summer  of  Love 


WITH  A  MIRROR 

Carved  by  a  swarthy  knave 
Close  by  the  Adrian  wave 

Came  I  to  being. 
To  me  a  soul  he  gave, 
In  gold  he  did  me  lave, 

To  suit  your  seeing. 

Mine  is  a  pleasant  life, 
Jove  bless  his  flashing  knife, 

Who  wrought  my  living. 
For  me  nor  care  nor  strife, 
Joys  in  my  days  are  rife, 

Joys  of  your  giving. 


[351 


Summer  of  Love 

PRINCESS  BALLADE 

Never  a  horn  sounds  in  Sherwood  tonight, 

Friar  Tuck's  drinking  Olympian  ale, 
Little  John's  wandered  away  from  our  sight, 

Robin  Hood's  bow  hangs  unused  on  its  nail. 

Even  the  moon  has  grown  weary  and  pale 
Sick  for  the  glint  of  Maid  Marian's  hair, 

But  there  is  one  joy  on  mountain  and  dale, 
Fairies  abound  all  the  time,  everywhere! 

Saints  have  attacked  them  with  sacredest  might, 

They  could  not  shatter  their  gossamer  mail, 
Steam-driven  engines  can  never  affright 

Fairies  who  dance  in  their  spark-sprinkled  trail. 

Still  for  a  warning  the  sad  Banshees  wail, 
Still  are  the  Leprechauns  ready  to  bear 

Purses  of  gold  to  their  captors  for  bail; 
Fairies  abound  all  the  time,  everywhere! 

Oberon,  king  of  the  realms  of  delight, 
May  your  domain  over  us  never  fail. 

Mab,  as  a  rainbow-hued  butterfly  bright, 
Yours  is  the  glory  that  age  cannot  stale. 

[36] 


Summer  of  Love 

When  we  are  planted  down  under  the  shale, 
Fairy-folk,  drop  a  few  daffodils  there, 

Comfort  our  souls  in  the  Stygian  vale; 
Fairies  abound  all  the  time,  everywhere. 

L'ENVOI 

White  Flower  Princess,  though  sophisters  rail, 
Let  us  be  glad  in  faith  that  we  share. 

None  shall  the  Good  People  safely  assail; 
Fairies  abound  all  the  time,  everywhere ! 


[37] 


Summer  of  Love 

LULLABY  FOR  A  BABY  FAIRY 

Night  is  over;  through  the  clover  globes  of  crystal 

shine; 
Birds   are   calling;   sunlight   falling  on   the   wet 

green  vine. 

Little  wings  must  folded  lie,  little  lips  be  still 
While  the  sun  is  in  the  sky,  over  Fairy  Hill. 
Sleep,  sleep,  sleep, 

Baby  with  buttercup  hair, 

Golden  rays 
Into  the  violet  creep. 
Dream,  dream  deep; 

Dream  of  the  night  revels  fair. 

Daylight  stays; 
Sleep,  little  fairy  child,  sleep. 

Rest  in  daytime ;  night  is  playtime,  all  good  fairies 

know. 

Under  sighing  grasses  lying,  off  to  slumber  go 
Night  will  come  with  stars  agleam,  lilies  in  her 

hand, 

Calling  you   from   Hills  of  Dream  back  to 
Fairyland. 

[38] 


Summer  of  Love 


Sleep,  sleep,  sleep, 

Baby  with  buttercup  hair; 

Golden  rays 
Into  the  violet  creep. 
Dream,  dream  deep; 

Dream  of  the  night-revels  fair. 

Daylight  stays; 
Sleep,  little  fairy  child,  sleep. 


[39] 


Summer  of  Love 


GEORGE  MEREDITH 

He  listened  to  the  mighty  lyre  of  earth, 

And  learned  the  lore  of  soul-compelling  song. 
He  pondered  on  the  rune  of  right  and  wrong, 

And  saw  the  hearts  of  men,  their  woe,  their  mirth. 

In  him  our  vision  had  a  second  birth, 

For  by  his  words  we  saw  as  in  some  strong 
Enchanted  lens  the  conscience  of  the  throng, 

The  font  of  ill,  the  hidden  source  of  worth. 

Shall  Death  claim  him,  on  deathless  knowledge 

reared? 
Shall    dreams    overtake    the    Master    of    the 

dream  ? 
Nay,  his  perfect  love  that  never  feared, 

His  words  send  through  our  grief  a  radiant 

gleam : 
"With    Life    and    Death    I    walked    and    Love 

appeared 
And  made  them  on  each  side  a  shadow  seem." 


[40] 


Summer   of  Love 
"AND  FORBID  THEM  NOT" 

("No  Trespassing"  signs  in  a  churchyard.) 

Tall,  bleak,  austere,  the  mighty  buildings  loom; 

Hard,  bare  and  dull  the  grimy  city  street. 
Here  by  the  church  is  found  a  little  room 

Roofed  with  blue  sky  and  with  green  turf  made 
sweet. 

Surely  the  Master  of  this  house  would  smile 
Seeing  the  children  on  His  grass  at  play, 

Seeing  the  mothers  rest  a  little  while 
Out  of  the  turmoil  of  the  busy  day. 

Soon  will  he  ask,  "Where  are  the  children  gone : 
They  who  should  share  this  pleasant,  sacred 
place? 

No  little  feet  are  treading  this  soft  lawn, 
Here  shines  no  glory  from  a  little  face." 

Ye  in  whose  trust  this  Christian  church  is  left, 
Think  ye  that  thus  ye  serve  your  Master  mild? 

None  by  His  will  are  of  this  home  bereft; 
They  love  Him  not  who  wrong  a  little  child. 

[41] 


Summer  of  Love 


A  DEAD  POET 

Fair  Death,  kind  Death,  it  was  a  gracious  deed 
To  take  that  weary  vagrant  to  thy  breast. 

Love,  Song  and  Wine  had  he,  and  but  one  need — 
Rest. 


[42] 


Summer   of  Love 


THE  MORNING  MEDITATIONS  OF 
FRERE  HYACINTHUS 

So  he  is  dead  and  damned  and  all  is  well. 

So  fare  all  traitors  to  the  church  and  God! 
Cursed  and  cast  out  with  candle,  book  and  bell, 

And  thrust  to  rot  beneath  unhallowed  sod. 

The  mouth  that  sounded  once  Saint  Mary's  name 
He  smirched  and  stained  with  scarlet  wine  of 
lust; 

Therefore  is  he  become  a  thing  of  shame, 
Anathema  and  alien  to  the  just. 

We  prayed  within  the  cloister  side  by  side, 
He  chose  the  world,  wise  in  his  own  conceit; 

I  kept  our  Blessed  Lady  for  my  bride, 

To  paths  of  sin  he  set  his  wayward  feet. 

And  she  is  dead,  too.     Lies  with  him,  they  say? 

Aye,  lies  with  him — they  are  together  still — 
That  golden  girl  I  saw  one  summer  day 

Tending  her  kine  upon  the  pasture  hill. 

[43] 


Summer  of  Love 

God,  God,  is  not  my  blood  like  his  blood  red? 

God,  God,  could  I  not  see  that  she  was  fair? 
Did  I  not  close  my  eyes  and  bow  my  head, 

And   purge   my   soul   with   fasting   and  with 
prayer? 

God,  see  my  flesh  with  scourgings  cut  and  scarred ! 

God,  see  my  frame  with  fasting  weak  and  thin ! 
God,  see  my  face  with  tears  and  sorrow  marred! 

God,  see  my  soul  burnt  white  and  clean  of  sin ! 

Tempted  I  was  like  him,  but  did  not  yield. 

Outcast  is  he  and  damned  and  spit  upon. 
Elect  am  I  and  with  thine  own  sign  sealed, 

Washed  white  and  pure  in  blood  of  Christ  thy 
Son. 

And  yet,  and  yet — Ah,  God,  that  dream  last  night ! 

When  I  had  prayed  before  Thy  blessed  shrine, 
And  sought  to  rest  a  while  before  the  light 

Should  call  me  to  new  services  of  Thine. 

Then  as  I  slept  it  seemed  I  was  with  Thee 
In  Heaven,  and  I  looked  down  into  Hell, 

[44] 


Summer  of  Love 

That  I  the  cursed  souls  in  pain  might  see 

And  be  more  glad  that  I  had  served  Thee  well. 

I  saw  the  place  with  blood-red  flames  alight, 
I  saw  the  damned  and  heard  their  shrieks  and 
groans, 

And  then  there  burst  upon  my  eyes  a  sight 

That  turned  to  lead  the  marrow  in  my  bones. 

There  in  his  arms  her  soft  white  body  lay; 

Shielded   by   him   she   kissed   his   mouth   and 

smiled. 
Round  them  the  flames  kept  their  unheeded  sway. 

Even  to  Hell  Love  made  them  reconciled. 

It's  time  for  Mass.    God  bless  the  newborn  day  I 
How  very  fair  it  is,  and  sweet  and  still — 

Down  yonder  lane  she  used  to  make  her  way 
To  tend  her  kine  upon  the  pasture  hill. 


[45] 


Summer  of  Love 

VILLANELLE  OF  THE  PLAYERS 

Violets  fade  with  the  May, 

Purple  and  fragrant  they  die, 
Players  live  for  a  day. 

What  is  their  legacy,  pray? 

Where  does  their  loveliness  lie? 
Violets  fade  with  the  May. 

Actors  in  motley  array 

Grace  of  your  memory  cry, 
Players  live  for  a  day. 

Where  the  sad  pine  trees  sway 
Lonely  the  reft  winds  sigh, 
Violets  fade  with  the  May. 

Withered  the  wreaths  of  bay, 

Wine-cups  are  cracked  and  dry, 
Players  live  for  a  day. 

Clouds  of  the  sunset  sky, 
None  shall  their  eulogy  say, 
Violets  fade  with  the  May, 
Players  live  for  a  day. 

[46] 


Summer  of  Love 
THE  MAD  FIDDLER 

I  sleep  beneath  a  bracken  sheet 

In  sunlight  or  in  rain, 
The  road  dust  burns  my  naked  feet, 

The  sunrays  sear  my  brain; 
But  children  love  my  fiddle's  sound 

And  if  a  lad  be  straying, 
His  mother  knows  he  may  be  found 

Where  old  Mad  Larry's  playing. 

O  fiddle,  let  us  follow,  follow, 

Till  we  see  my  Eileen's  face, 
Through  the  moonlight  like  a  swallow 

Off  she  flew  to  some  far  place. 

O,  did  you  ever  love  a  lass? 

I  loved  a  lass  one  day, 
And  she  would  lie  upon  the  grass 

And  sing  while  I  would  play. 
She  was  a  cruel,  lovely  thing, 

Nor  heart  nor  soul  have  I 
For  Eileen  took  them  that  soft  spring 

When  she  flew  to  the  sky. 

[47] 


Summer  of  Love 

So  fiddle,  let  us  follow,  follow, 
Till  we  see  my  Eileen's  face, 

Through  the  moonlight  like  a  swallow 
Off  she  flew  to  some  far  place. 


[48] 


Summer  of  Love 


THE  GRASS  IN  MADISON  SQUARE 

The  pleasant  turf  is  dried  and  marred  and  seared, 

The  grass  is  dead. 
No  soft  green  shoot,  by  rain  and  sunshine  reared, 

Lifts  up  its  head. 

I  think  the  grass  that  made  the  park  so  gay 

In  early  spring 

Now  decks  the  lawns  of  Heaven  where  babies 
-play 

And  dance  and  sing. 

And  poor  old  vagabonds  who  now  have  left 

The  dusty  street, 
Find  fields  of  which  they  were  in  life  bereft, 

Beneath  their  feet. 


[491 


Summer  of  Love 

CHEVELY  CROSSING 

Where  two  roads  cross  by  Chevely  town 

A  man  is  lying  dead. 
The  rumbling  wains  of  scented  hay 

Roll  over  his  fair  head; 
A  stake  is  driven  through  his  heart, 

For  his  own  blood  he  shed. 


Among  the  pleasant  flower-stars 

By  God's  own  garden  gate, 
A  little  maid  fresh  come  from  earth 

One  summer  night  did  wait; 
Her  poppy  mouth  dropped  down  with  fear, 

With  fear  her  eyes  were  great. 

The  angels  saw  her  sinless  face, 

The  gate  was  opened  wide. 
She  only  shook  her  dawn-crowned  head 

And  would  not  come  inside. 
She  was  alone,  and  so  afraid — 

She  hid  her  face  and  cried. 

[50] 


Summer  of  Love 

Her  tears  dropped  down  like  sun-filled  rain 

Through  stars  and  starless  space, 
Until  at  last  in  Chevely  town 

Where  in  a  moonlit  place 
Her  lover  knelt  upon  her  grave, 

They  fell  upon  his  face. 

Said  he,  "My  love,  my  only  love, 

My  Elena,  my  Sweet! 
Through  what  wild  ways  of  mystery 

Have  strayed  your  little  feet? 
Alone,  alone  this  lonely  night 

Where  only  spirits  meet! 

"It  is  not  my  bleak  desert  life 

That  turns  my  heart  to  lead, 
Not  for  my  empty  arms  I  mourn, 

Nor  for  my  loveless  bed; 
But  that  you  wander  forth  alone 

On  heights  I  may  not  tread. 

"If  I  could  stand  beside  you  now 

Sin-burdened  though  I  be, 
I'd  bear  you  through  the  trackless  ways 

From  fear  and  danger  free, 


Summer  of  Love 

Not  God  himself  could  daunt  the  strong 
Undying  love  of  me ! 

"Though  Heaven  is  a  pleasant  place 
What  joy  for  you  is  there? 

Who  tread  the  jewelled  streets  alone 
Without  my  heart  to  share 

Each  throb  of  your  heart,  and  my  arm 
Around  you,  O  my  Fair! 

"I  hear  your  sobbing  in  the  wind, 

And  in  the  summer  rain 
I  feel  your  tears.     My  heart  is  pierced 

With  your  sad,  lonely  pain. 
My  Love !   My  only  Love !   I  come ! 

You  shall  not  call  in  vain!" 


Where  two  roads  cross  by  Chevely  town 

A  man  is  lying  dead. 
The  rumbling  wains  of  scented  hay 

Roll  over  his  fair  head; 
A  stake  is  driven  through  his  heart, 

For  his  own  blood  he  shed. 

[52] 


Summer  of  Love 


SAID  THE  ROSE 

No  flower  hath  so  fair  a  face  as  this  pale  love 
of  mine 

When  he  bends  down  to  kiss  my  heart,*my  petals 
try  to  twine 

About  his  lips  to  hold  them  fast.  He  is  so  very 
fair, 

My  lover  with  the  pale,  sad  face  and  forest- 
fragrant  hair. 

I  think  it  is  a  pleasant  place,  this  garden  where  I 

grow, 
With  gravel  walks  and  grassy  mounds  and  crosses 

in  a  row. 
There  is  no  toil  nor  worry  here,  nor  clatter  of 

the  street, 
And  here  each  night  my  lover  conies,  pale,  sad 

and  very  sweet. 

He  never  heeds  the  violets  or  lilies  tall  and  white ; 
I  am  his  love,  his  only  love,  his  Flower  of  De- 
light; 

[531 


Summer  of  Love 

And  often  when  the  cold  moonbeams  are  lying  all 

around 
My  lover  kneels  the  whole  night  through  beside 

me  on  the  ground. 


How  can  I  miss  the  sunshine-laden  breezes  of  the 
south 

When  all  my  heart  is  burning  with  the  kisses  of 
his  mouth? 

How  can  I  miss  the  coming  of  the  comfort- 
bringing  rain 

When  his  hot  tears  are  filling  me  with  heaven- 
sweet  love-pain? 


There  is  a  jealous  little  bird  that  envies  me  my 

love, 
He  sings  this  bitter,  bitter  song  from  his  brown 

nest  above: 
"Was  ever  yet  a  mortal  man  who  wed  a  flower 

wife? 
He  loves  the  girl  down  in  your  roots  whose  dead 

breast  gives  you  life." 

[54] 


Summer  of  Love 

0  little  bird,  O  jealous  bird,  fly  off  and  cease 

your  chatter! 
My  lover  is  my  lover,  and  what  can  a  dead  girl 

matter? 
In  his  hot  kisses  and  sweet  tears  I  shall  my  petals 

steep ; 

1  am  his  love,  his  only  love,  I  have  his  heart  to 

keep. 


[55] 


Summer  of  Love 


WHITE  MARBLE  AND  GREEN  GRASS 

Starlight,  sunlight,  silver  light  and  gold, 
All  are  dark  for  Love's  great  flame  is  cold. 
Rose  wind,  garden  wind  and  morning's  breath, 
Are  ye  stronger  than  the  scent  of  death? 


[56] 


Summer  of  Love 


METAMORPHOSIS  * 

He  was  an  evil  thing  to  see — 
Of  joy  his  mouth  was  desolate, 

His  body  was  a  stunted  tree, 

His  eyes  were  pools  of  lust  and  hate 

Now  silverly  the  linnet  sings 

On  leaves  that  from  his  temples  start 
And  gay  the  yellow  crocus  springs 

From  the  rich  clod  that  was  his  heart. 


[57] 


Summer  of  Love 

ABSINTHE 

I  have  prayed  to  the  Christ  of  the  merciful  eyes, 

I  have  prayed  to  the  Lord  of  Hosts, 
I  have  prayed,  but  in  vain,  for  God  to  rise 

And  scatter  these  murderous  ghosts, 
These  horrible,  beckoning  ghosts  that  sign 

And  beckon  me  where?  ah,  where? 
O  little  green  god  in  your  crystal  shrine, 

You  only  will  heed  my  prayer ! 

The  breath  of  your  mouth  is  a  powerful  wind 
That  whirls  sorrow-shadows  away; 

The  light  of  your  eyes  burns  the  bonds  that  bind, 
I  escape  from  the  earth's  fell  sway. 

The  pallid  figures  in  threatening  line, 
They  falter  and  tremble  and  flee. 

0  little  green  god  in  your  crystal  shrine, 
Shed  some  of  your  glory  on  me ! 

1  have  given  you  service,  sincere  and  prolonged, 
I  have  given  you  love — ah,  you  know! 

Though  I  pray  in  a  fane  by  your  worshippers 

thronged, 
There  is  no  one  who  worships  you  so. 

[58] 


Summer  of  Love 

My  hand  and  my  heart  and  my  brain,  ah,  divine 

Lord,  master  of  living,  I  give, 
O  little  green  god  in  your  crystal  shrine, 

Take  these — and  then  bid  me  to  live ! 

By  a  green  marble  house  in  a  garden  of  green, 

Green  roses  bloom  'neath  a  green  sun, 
Where   the   maidens   have   eyes   of   an   emerald 
sheen, 

And  the  strife  and  the  labor  are  done, 
O  there  let  me  dwell,  where  the  ravenous  whine 

Of  the  earth  ghosts  is  soundless  and  dead. 
O  little  green  god  in  your  crystal  shrine, 

Your  heavenly  dream-shower  shed! 


[59] 


Summer  of  Love 


THEOLOGY 

The  blade  is  sharp,  the  reaper  stout, 

And  every  daisy  dies. 
Their  souls  are  fluttering  about — 

We  call  them  butterflies. 


[60] 


Summer  of  Love 


FOR  A  CHILD 

His  mind  has  neither  need  nor  power  to  know 

The   foolish   things   that  men  call   right  and 

wrong. 
For  him  the  streams  of  pleasant  love-wind  flow, 

For  him  the  mystic,  sleep-compelling  song. 
Through  love  he  rules  his  love-made  universe, 

And  sees  with  eyes  by  ignorance  made  keen 
The  fauns  and  elves  whom  older  eyes  disperse, 

Great  Pan  and  all  the  fairies  with  their  queen. 
King  gods,  I  pray,  bestow  on  him  this  dole, 

Not  wisdom,  wealth,  nor  mighty  deeds  to  do, 
But  let  him  keep  his  happy  pagan  soul, 

The  poet-vision,  simple,  free  and  true, 
To  hunt  the  rainbow-gold  and  phantom  lights, 
And  meet  with  dryads  on  the  wooded  heights. 


[61] 


Summer  of  Love 


TO  J.  B.  Y. 

Bitter  and  selfish  sorrow,  poverty,  strife  and  ruth, 
Fear  of  the  dreadful  morrow, — these  took  away 

our  youth. 

^Engus  is  bending  o'er  us — we  are  too  old  to  see, 
Too  old  to  hear  before  us  moon-drenched  songs 

of  Shee. 

Dreamer  of  dreams  and  lover,  young  as  are  love 

and  dreams, 
Show   us   the   Shee   that  hover  over  the   silver 

streams, 

Give  us  the  song  and  story,  make  us  to  live  anew, 
Bathed  in  your  youthful  glory  let  us  be  young  like 

you. 


[62] 


Summer  of  Love 
THE  KING'S  BALLAD 

Good  my  king,  in  your  garden  close, 

(Hark  to  the  thrush's  trilling,) 
Why  so  sad  when  the  maiden  rose 
Love  at  your  feet  is  spilling? 
Golden  the  air  and  honey-sweet, 
Sapphire  the  sky,  it  is  not  meet 
Sorrowful  faces  should  flowers  greet, 
(Hark  to  the  thrush's  trilling.) 

All  alone  walks  the  king  to-day, 

(Hark  to  the  thrush's  trilling,) 
Far  from  the  throne  he  steals  away 
Loneness  and  quiet  willing. 

Roses  and  tulips  and  lilies  fair 
Smile  for  his  pleasure  everywhere, 
Yet  of  their  joyaunce  he  takes  no  share, 
(Hark  to  the  thrush's  trilling.) 

Ladies  wait  in  the  palace,  Sire, 

(Hark  to  the  thrush's  trilling,) 
Red  and  white  for  the  king's  desire 

Lovewarm  and  sweet  and  thrilling, 


Summer  of  Love 

Breasts  of  moonshine  and  hair  of  night, 
Glances  amorous  soft  and  bright, 
Nothing  is  lacking  for  thy  delight, 
(Hark  to  the  thrush's  trilling.) 

Kneels  the  king  in  a  grassy  place, 
(Hark  to  the  thrush's  trilling,) 
Little  flowers  under  his  face 

With  his  warm  tears  are  filling: 

Says  the  king,  "Here  my  heart  lies  dead 
Where  my  fair  love  is  buried, 
Would  I  were  lying  here  instead!" 
(Hark  to  the  thrush's  trilling.) 


[64] 


Summer  of  Love 


JESUS  AND  THE  SUMMER  RAIN 

Over  the  hills  and  across  the  plain, 

Treading  their  gypsy  way, 
Ragged  and  penniless,  vagrants  twain 

Went  with  a  child  one  day. 

Sunburnt  and  barefooted  was  the  man, 

Poor  was  the  woman's  dress, 
Over  the  baby  the  sunbeams  ran, 

Winds  gave  him  soft  caress. 

"Brother  o'  mine,"  said  the  summer  rain, 

"Brother  o'  mine,"  said  he, 
"Take  you  the  vagabond's  joy  and  pain, 

Vagabond  shall  you  be. 

"Banned  by  the  rich  and  the  folk  of  power, 

Outcasts  shall  love  you  well; 
Harlots  and  thieves  in  your  dying  hour 

Closest  to  you  shall  dwell. 


Summer  of  Love 

"Never  a  home  nor  abiding  place 
Where  you  may  rest  your  load; 

Ever  the  starlight  on  your  face, 
Ever  the  open  road. 

"Brother  o'  mine,"  said  the  summer  rain, 

"Brother  o'  mine,"  said  he, 
"Take  you  the  vagabond's  joy  and  pain, 

Vagabond  shall  you  be." 


[66] 


Summer  of  Love 
THE  BALLADE  OF  BUTTERFLIES 

Because  we  never  build  a  nest 

And  no  one  of  us  ever  sings, 
We  are  the  butt  of  every  jest 

That  strutting  loud-mouthed  robin  flings. 

Unless  the  field  with  laughter  rings 
And  we  are  meek  in  our  replies 

His  claws  and  beak  to  bear  he  brings; 
Have  pity  on  all  butterflies ! 

Since  we  are  of  no  home  possest, 

And  have  no  joy  in  courts  and  kings, 
And  love  on  working-days  to  rest, 

The  name  of  "Idlers"  to  us  clings. 

On  all  our  gypsy  travellings 
They  follow  us  with  jeering  cries. 

From  every  rose  a  spider  springs; 
Have  pity  on  all  butterflies ! 

A  little  thing  is  our  request — 

Some  peace  from  nets  of  sticks  and  strings, 
An  hour  to  feel  the  sunlight's  zest, 

To  'scape  the  deadly  bee  that  stings. 

[67] 


Summer  of  Love 

From  hostile  fortune's  bolts  and  slings 
Give  us  release  ere  Summer  dies — 

We  dread  the  Winter's  threatenings ; 
Have  pity  on  all  butterflies ! 

L'ENVOI 

Great  Pan,  kind  lord  of  living  things, 
Look  on  us  now  with  friendly  eyes. 

We  pray  to  you  on  trembling  wings, 
Have  pity  on  all  butterflies! 


[68] 


Summer  of  Love 
THE  CLOUDED  SUN 
(To  A.  S.) 

It  is  not  good  for  poets  to  grow  old 

For  they  serve  Death  that  loves  and  Love  that 

kills; 
And  Love  and  Death,   enthroned  above  the 

hills, 

Call  back  their  faithful  servants  to  the  fold 
Before  Age  makes  them  passionless  and  cold. 

Therefore  it  is  that  no  more  sorry  thing 

Can  shut  the  sunlight  from  the  thirsty  grass 
Than  some  grey  head  through  which  no  longer 

pass 

Wild  dreams  more  lively  than  the  scent  of  Spring 
To  fire  the  blood  and  make  the  glad  mouth  sing. 

Far  happier  he,  who,  young  and  full  of  pride 
And  radiant  with  the  glory  of  the  sun, 
Leaves  earth  before  his  singing  time  is  done. 
All  wounds  of  Time  the  graveyard  flowers  hide, 
His  beauty  lives,  as  fresh  as  when  he  died. 


Summer  of  Love 

Then  through  the  words  wherein  his  spirit  dwells 
The  world  may  see  his  young  impetuous  face 
Unmarred  by  Time,  with  undiminished  grace; 

While  memory  no  piteous  story  tells 

Of  barren  days,  stale  loves  and  broken  spells. 
****** 

Brother  and  Master,  we  are  wed  with  woe. 
Yea,  Grief's  funereal  cloud  it  is  that  hovers 
About  the  head  of  us  thy  mournful  lovers. 
Uncomforted  and  sick  with  pain  we  go, 
Dust  on  our  brows  and  at  our  hearts  the  snow. 

The  London  lights  flare  on  the  chattering  street, 
Young  men  and  maidens  love  and  dance  and 

die; 

Wine  flows,  and  perfumes  float  up  to  the  sky. 
Once  thou  couldst  feel  that  this  was  very  sweet, 
Now  thou   art  still — mouth,   hands   and  weary 
feet. 

O  subtle  mouth,  whereon  the  Sphinx  has  placed 
The  smile  of  those  she  kisses  at  their  birth, 
Sing  once  again,  for  Spring  has  thrilled  the 
earth. 


Summer  of  Love 

Nay,  thou  art  dumb.    Not  even  April's  taste 
Is  sweet  to  thee  in  thy  live  coffin  cased. 

There  is  no  harsher  tragedy  than  this — 
That  thou,  who  feltest  as  no  man  before 
Scent,  color,  taste  and  sound  and  didst  outpour 
For  us  rich  draughts  of  thine  enchanted  bliss 
Shouldst  be  plunged  down  this  cruel  black  abyss. 

Brother  and  Master,  if  our  love  could  free 
Thy  flameborn  spirit  from  its  leaden  chain 
Thou  shouldst  rise  up  from  this  sad  house  of 

pain, 

Be  young  and  fair  as  thou  wast  wont  to  be, 
And  strong  with  joy  as  is  the  boundless  sea. 

Brother  and  Master,  at  thy  feet  we  lay 

These  roses,  red  as  lips  that  thou  hast  sung. 
And  cypress  wreaths  above  thy  head  are  hung 

To  mingle  with  the  green  and  fragrant  bay. 

We  kneel  awhile,  then  turn  in  tears  away. 


Summer  of  Love 


IN  MEMORIAM : 
FLORENCE  NIGHTINGALE 

She  whom  we  love,  our  Lady  of  Compassion, 
Can  never  die,  for  Love  forbids  her  death. 

Love  has  bent  down  in  his  old  kindly  fashion, 
And  breathed  upon  her  his  immortal  breath. 

On  wounded  soldiers,  in  their  anguish  lying, 
Her  gentle  spirit  shall  descend  like  rain. 

Where  the  white  flag  with  the  red  cross  is  flying, 
There  shall  she  dwell,  the  vanquisher  of  pain. 


[72] 


Summer  of  Love 


BALLAD  OF  THREE 

Upon  the  river's  brink  she  stands 
And  tastes  the  dawn's  white  breath. 

She  wrings  her  slender,  silver  hands, 
"God's  curse  on  love,"  she  saith. 

"Love  binds  me  with  his  cruel  bands 
That  break  not  save  with  death." 

"Now  Geoffrey  is  a  huntsman  bold 

And  slays  the  mountain  deer, 
And  Hugh  plows  up  the  fragrant  mold 

And  plucks  the  ripened  ear. 
In  friendship  would  these  twain  grow  old 

Did  I  not  dwell  anear. 

"Hugh  brings  me  grapes  with  sunlight  sweet, 

Like  globes  of  amethyst, 
While  Geoffrey's  fawn  with  snowflake  feet 

Is  corded  to  my  wrist. 
They  mutter  curses  when  they  meet, 

Their  sight  dims  with  red  mist. 

[73] 


Summer  of  Love 

11  And  it  is  love  hath  done  this  thing; 

Yea,  Geoffrey  loves  my  hair, 
And  Hugh  lifts  up  his  voice  to  sing 

That  my  sad  face  is  fair, 
And  love  strews  poison  in  the  spring 

And  fouls  the  pleasant  air. 

''But  not  for  my  poor  loveliness 

Shall  blood  of  brothers  flow. 
What  is  one  woman,  more  or  less? 

And  what  is  love  but  woe! 
I  want  no  murderer's  caress, 

So  for  love's  sake — I  go." 

Lads,  sheathe  your  knives,  no  use  to  fight. 

The  lady  you  would  wed 
Shall  sleep  alone  in  state  tonight 

With  candles  at  her  head. 
Lift,  friends,  this  figure  still  and  white 

And  bear  her  to  her  bed. 


[74] 


Summer  of  Love 


COURT  MUSICIANS 

As  when  in  summer-scented  days  gone  by 
The  court-musicians,  dressed  in  velvets  gay 
And  golden  silks,  would  on  their  gitterns 
play 

And  blend  their  voices  with  the  strings'  love-cry, 

So  that  the  princess  from  her  tower  on  high 

Might  through  the  rose-framed  window  hear 

their  lay, 
And  make  more  splendid  the  resplendent  day 

By  leaning  out,  her  choristers  to  spy; 

So  now,  with  weary  voice  and  violin, 

Two  court-musicians  rend  the  dusty  air. 

Their  shrill  notes  pierce  the  elevated's  din, 
And  thrill  a  girl's  heart  with  a  pleasure  rare. 

For  her  has  sweeter  music  never  been; 
They  never  saw  a  princess  half  so  fair. 


[75] 


Summer  of  Love 


THE  DEAD  LOVER 

I  tire  of  lovely  faces  free  from  pain 

And  free  from  sin; 
Here  none  with  lips  wet  with  the  crimson  stain 

May  enter  in. 
One  thing  I  lack,  and  lacking  it,  am  dead — 

A  woman's  heart. 
"She  cannot  enter  here,"  an  angel  said; 

I  will  depart. 

I  have  one  prayer  that  I  will  make  to  God, 

That  I  may  stay 
Where  lies  my  body  underneath  the  sod. 

Then  night  and  day 
I  shall  be  where  my  dear  false  love  may  pass; 

It  will  be  sweet 
To  hear  above  my  head,  upon  the  grass, 

Her  little  feet 


[76] 


Summer  of  Love 

THE  POETS  EPITAPH 

Dreams  fade  with  morning  light, 

Never  a  morn  for  thee, 
Dreamer  of  dreams,  good-night. 

Over  our  earthly  sight 

Shadows  of  woe  must  be; 
Dreams  fade  with  morning  light. 

Soldiers  awake  to  fight — 

Thou  art  from  strife  set  free, 
Dreamer  of  dreams,  good-night. 

Day  breaketh,  cruel,  white, 

Lovely  the  forms  that  flee; 
Dreams  fade  with  morning  light. 

Thine  is  the  sure  delight, 
Sleep-visions  still  to  see, 
Dreamer  of  dreams,  good-night. 

Pity  us  from  thy  height, 

Dawn-haunted  slaves  are  we; 
Dreams  fade  with  morning  light, 
Dreamer  of  dreams,  good-night. 


Summer  of  Love 

THE  SUBWAY 

Tired  clerks,  pale  girls,  street  cleaners,  business 

men, 

Boys,    priests    and    harlots,    drunkards,    stu- 
dents, thieves, 

Each  one  the  pleasant  outer  sunshine  leaves; 
They  mingle  in  this  stifling,  loud-wheeled  pen. 
The  gate  clangs  to — we  stir — we  sway — and  then 
We  thunder  through  the  dark.    The  long  train 

weaves 

Its  gloomy  way.    At  last  above  the  eaves 
We  see  awhile  God's  day,  then  night  again. 

Hurled   through   the   dark — day   at   Manhattan 
Street, 

The  rest  all  night.     That  is  my  life,  it  seems. 
Through  sunless  ways  go  my  reluctant  feet. 

The  sunlight  comes  in  transitory  gleams. 
And  yet  the  darkness  makes  the  light  more  sweet, 

The  perfect  light  about  me — in  my  dreams. 


[78] 


Summer  of  Love 


THE  OTHER  LOVER 

I'm  home  from  off  the  stormy  sea, 

And  down  the  street 
The  folk  come  out  to  welcome  me 

On  eager  feet. 

O  neighbors,  God  be  with  you  all, 
But  for  my  true  love  I  must  call; 
She  lingers  in  her  father's  hall 
So  shy,  so  sweet! 

Here  is  a  string  of  milky  pearls 

For  her  to  wear, 
An  amber  comb  to  match  the  curls 

Of  her  bright  hair. 
O  neighbors,  do  not  crowd  me  so ! 
Stand  by!  stand  by!  for  I  must  go 
To  put  on  my  love's  hand  of  snow 
This  gold  ring  fair. 

Good  dame,  why  do  you  block  the  way 

And  shake  your  head? 
Must  all  the  things  you  have  to  say 

Just  now  be  said? 

[79] 


Summer  of  Love 

O  neighbors,  let  me  pass — but  why — 
My  God,  what  makes  you  women  cry? 
Come  tell  me  that  I  too  may  die! 
Is  my  love  dead? 

"Nay,  Marjorie's  a  living  thing, 

And  fair  and  strong. 
Yet  did  you  wait  to  give  your  ring 

A  year  too  long. 

To  seek  her  love  there  came  the  Moon; 
Now  Marjorie  at  night  and  noon 
Is  chained  and  sits  alone  to  croon 
The  Moon's  love-song." 


[80] 


Summer  of  Love 
AGE  COMES  A-WOOING 

With  shameless  and  incessant  lust 

Thy  tremulous  hot  hands  are  thrust 

Upon  my  body's  loveliness. 

O  loathsome  Age,  thy  foul  caress 

Puts  on  my  heart  a  deadly  blight, 

Withers  my  hair  to  leprous  white, 

Binds  fetters  on  my  eager  feet 

That  once  on  Springtime's  road  were  fleet 

To  bear  me  to  Love's  shining  goal. 

Now  bitter  tides  of  sorrow  roll 

To  drown  me  in  a  sea  of  woe 

And  God  looks  on,  and  wills  it  so  1 

jive  over  thy  pursuing,  Age ! 
Fearest  thou  not  my  lover's  rage? 
For  he  is  young  and  strong  of  limb, 
Thou  canst  not  stand  a  bout  with  him. 
Ah,  surely  he  will  laugh  to  see 
So  wan  a  suitor  wooing  me. 
Then  with  wild  scorn  his  heart  will  swell 
And  he  will  fling  thee  back  to  hell. 

O  Love,  that  stronger  art  than  Death, 
Enfold  me  from  the  burning  breath 

[81] 


Summer  of  Love 

Of  Age  that  has  grown  amorous, 
That  sears  and  blasts  me.     Even  thus, 
Men  say,  his  passionate  embrace 
Spoils  maids  and  flowers  of  their  grace, 
And  every  woman's  fate  is  cast 
To  be  his  paramour  at  last. 
And  so  all  lovely  things  are  made 
Shameful,  and  in  the  ashes  laid, 
To  die  alone,  uncared  for.    Such 
Is  the  pollution  of  his  touch. 

Stars  that  have  shone  since  Time  began, 
Rivers  that  saw  the  birth  of  man, 
And  mountains  that  are  fair  and  green, 
And  were,  when  Helen  was  a  queen, 
White  dreams  that  never  can  grow  old, 
Stories  of  love  and  glory  told 
By  Homer  once,  and  ballads  sung 
Eons  ago — ye  still  are  young. 
Tell  me  the  secret  of  your  youth. 
Can  any  weeping  fill  with  ruth 
Age,  that  is  harsh  and  pitiless? 

Nay,  they  are  blind  to  my  distress. 
They  have  not  feared  the  grasping  hand 
Of  Age,  and  cannot  understand. 

[82] 


Summer  of  Love 


Love  saw  my  whitened  hair  and  laughed 
And  bid  me  drain  my  bitter  draught. 
While  in  my  lover's  startled  eyes 
A  lurking  terror  strangely  lies. 
There  is  no  place  in  which  to  hide 
When  Age  comes  seeking  for  his  bride. 


[83] 


Summer  of  Love 

PRAYER  TO  BRAGI 

The  world-rocking  roar  of  the  thunder,  the  red 
lightning's  death-dealing  flash, 

The  wind  that  rends  mountains  asunder,  the 
tempest's  sharp,  blood-bringing  lash, 

Beneficent  silvery  rivers  that  stream  from  the 
dream-laden  moon, 

And  crimsoning  fire  that  delivers  bound  life  at  the 
sun's  freeing  noon; 

These  swell  like  a  marvellous  ocean,  all  throb- 
bing and  leaping  and  strong, 

O  Bragi,  in  thy  magic  potion  of  pain  and  of 
sweetness  and  song ! 

The  life-blood  of  Kvasir  was  taken,  sharp  heart- 
seeking  knives  made  him  bleed, 

But  still  shall  his  spirit  awaken  in  singers  who 
drink  of  thy  mead. 

The  honey  from  forests  of  flowers,  poured  out  as 
the  milk  from  the  kine, 

It  flows  through  the  undying  hours  from  lips  that 
are  wet  with  thy  wine. 

O  Bragi,  dear  master  of  singing,  song-thirsty  I  beg 
for  thy  dole ! 

To  thy  knees,  a  suppliant  clinging,  I  pray  for  a 
draught  from  thy  bowl. 


Summer  of  Love 

IMITATION  OF  RICHEPIN'S 
BALLADE  OF  THE  BEGGARS'  KING 

Hey,  come  to  me,  you  slipshod  race, 

Picklocks  and  squealing  bagpipe  crew, 
Come,  strumpet,  knave  and  monkey-face, 

Come  loafers,  I'm  the  lad  for  you ! 

Come  ragged  cloak  and  tattered  shoe, 
Your  wild,  hot  liberty  I  sing, 

For  I  am  of  your  nation,  too, 
The  poet  is  the  beggars'  king. 

You  playthings  of  the  copper's  mace, 
You  toys  of  wind  and  rain  and  dew, 

You  whom  the  yelping  watchdogs  chase, 
Whom  blows  and  noisome  ills  pursue, 
Whose  paltry  rags  the  wind  strikes  through 

As  through  some  rotten  paper  thing, 
To  whom  nor  want  nor  woe  is  new, 

The  poet  is  the  beggars'  king. 

You  hoboes,  whom  the  sun's  embrace 
Has  burned  to  darkly  golden  hue, 

You  trollops,  full  of  love  and  grace, 
Whom  half  a  hundred  lovers  woo, 

[85] 


Summer  of  Love 

You  little  crawling  babies  who 
Just  wear  your  hides  for  costuming, 

Old  toothless  men  with  noses  blue, 
The  poet  is  the  beggars'  king. 

L'ENVOI 

My  subjects  all  and  vassals  true, 
Come,  give  me  royal  welcoming, 

May  booze  be  plenty,  bulls  be  few, 
The  poet  is  the  beggars'  king. 


[86] 


Slimmer  of  Love 

LOVE  AND  THE  FOWLER'S  BOY 

(BionlV,  14.) 

Lo,  the  fowler's  little  lad, 

Through  the  woodland  straying, 

Sight  of  winged  Love  hath  had 
In  the  branches  playing. 

uAh,"  he  cries,  ua  bonnie  prey!" 

Sets  his  bow  to  wing  him. 
Cupid  blows  the  dart  away 

That  to  earth  would  bring  him. 

Now  the  boy  in  angry  woe 

Casts  away  his  quiver 
To  his  master  straight  doth  go 

And  the  tale  deliver. 

Saith  the  sage,  "Nay,  not  for  thee 

Such  a  bird  to  harry. 
From  the  haunted  forest  flee 

Where  such  creatures  tarry. 

"Though  it  now  escape  thy  dart 

Let  not  tears  be  flowing, 
It  will  light  upon  thy  heart 

Ere  thy  beard  be  growing." 


Summer  of  Love 


THE  WAY  OF  LOVE 

(An  Old  Legend.) 

When  darkness  hovers  over  earth 
And  day  gives  place  to  night, 

Then  lovers  see  the  Milky  Way 
Gleam  mystically  bright, 

And  calling  it  the  Way  of  Love 
They  hail  it  with  delight. 

She  was  a  lady  wondrous  fair 

A  right  brave  lover  he, 
And  sooth  they  suffered  grievous  pain 

And  sorrowed  mightily, 
For  they  were  parted  during  life 

By  leagues  of  land  and  sea. 

She  died.     Then  Death  came  to  the  man. 

He  met  him  joyfully, 
And  said,  "Thou  Angel  Death,  well  met! 

Quick,  do  thy  will  with  me, 
That  I  may  haste  to  greet  my  love 

In  Heaven's  company." 

[88] 


Summer  of  Love 

Now  on  one  side  of  Heaven  he  dwelt 

And  on  the  other,  she. 
And  broad  between  them  stretched  sheer  space 

Whereon  no  way  might  be, 
The  empty,  yawning,  awful  depth, 

Unplumbed  infinity. 

The  deathless  spheric  melody 

Came  gently  to  his  ear, 
And  dulcet  notes,   the  harmonies 

Of  Seraphs  chanting  near. 
He  heeded  not  for  listening 

His  lady's  voice  to  hear. 

The  Saints  and  Martyrs  round  him  ranged 

A  goodly  company, 
The  Virgin,  robed  in  radiance, 

The  Holy  Trinity. 
He  heeded  not,  but  strained  his  eyes 

His  lady's  face  to  see. 

At  last  from  far  across  the  void 

Her  voice  came,  faint  and  sweet. 
The  bright-hued  walls  of  Paradise 

Did  the  glad  sound  repeat; 
The  distant  stars  on  which  she  stood 

Shone  bright  beneath  her  feet. 

[89] 


Summer  of  Love 

"Dear  Love/'  she  said,  "Oh,  come  to  me! 

I  cannot  see  your  face. 
O  will  not  Lord  Christ  grant  to  us 

To  cross  this  sea  of  space  ?" 
Then  thrilled  his  heart  with  Love's  own  might 

He  answered,  by  Love's  grace. 

"The  world  is  wide,  and  Heaven  is  wide, 

From  me  to  thee  is  far, 
Alas!  across  Infinity 

No  passageways  there  are. 
Sweetheart,  I'll  make  my  way  to  thee, 

I'll  build  it,  star  by  star!" 

Through  all  the  curving  vault  of  sky 

His  lusty  blows  rang  out. 
He  smote  the  jewel-studded  walls 

And  with  a  mighty  shout 
He  tore  the  gleaming  masonry 

And  posts  that  stood  about. 

He  strove  to  build  a  massive  bridge 

That  should  the  chasm  span. 
With  heart  upheld  by  hope  and  love 

His  great  task  he  began, 
And  toiled  and  labored  doughtily 

To  work  his  God-like  plan. 

[90] 


•*''  :.      Summer  cf  J^ 

He  took  the  heavy  beams  of  gold 

That  round  him  he  did  see; 
The  beryl,  jacinth,  sardius, 

That  shone  so  brilliantly, 
And  no  fair  jewel  would  he  spare 

So  zealously  worked  he. 

He  stole  the  gorgeous  tinted  stuffs 

Whereof  are  sunsets  made, 
And  his  rude,  grasping,  eager  hands 

On  little  stars  he  laid; 
To  rob  God's  sacred  treasure-house 

He  was  no  whit  afraid. 

And  so  for  centuries  he  worked. 

Across  the  void  at  last 
A  bridge  of  precious  mold  did  stand 

Completed,  strong  and  fast. 
So  now  the  faithful  lovers  met 

And  all  their  woe  was  past. 

But  soon  a  shining  angel  guard 

Sped  to  the  throne  of  gold 
And  said,  "Lord,  see  yon  new-made  bridge, 

A  mortal,  overbold, 
Has  built  it,  scorning  thy  desire  I" 

Straightway  the  tale  he  told. 


Summer' of  Love 

Then  said:  "Now,  Master,  Thou  mayst  see 

The  thing  that  has  been  wrought. 
Speak,  then,  the  word,  stretch  forth  Thine  hand 

That  with  the  speed  of  thought 
This  poor  presumptuous  work  may  fall 

And  crumble  into  naught." 

God  looked  upon  the  angel  then 

And  on  the  bridge  below. 
Then  with  His  smile  of  majesty 

He  said:  uLet  all  things  know, 
This  bridge,  which  has  by  Love  been  built, 

I  will  not  overthrow." 

When  darkness  hovers  over  earth 

And  day  gives  place  to  night, 
Then  lovers  see  the  Milky  Way 

Gleam  mystically  bright, 
And  calling  it  the  Way  of  Love, 

They  hail  it  with  delight. 


[92] 


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